


Wanderer

by Guardian_of_Hope



Series: Wanderer [1]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Gen, Rebellion, clone kids au, finding team, pilot, search rescue and retrieval verse, secret jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-10 02:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11118468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_of_Hope/pseuds/Guardian_of_Hope
Summary: After the Battle of Yaven, a secret settlement of Jedi and Clones sends one of their own to join the Alliance.Misha is a pilot with an attitude and a lightsaber.  It's easier to hide the lightsaber than the attitude.





	1. Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> Clone!Kids AU is based on the idea "What would the Clones' kids be like." Misha is the oldest son of Captain Zip from the Search, Rescue, and Retrieval series.
> 
> This story is based in the years between Yavin and Hoth.

Getting into the Alliance was at once the hardest and easiest thing that Misha had done in a while.  Easiest thing in that Master Kara’s cousin on Ilan had some people in the Alliance as representatives and observers.  Hardest in what he was living behind.  First was his buir, Zip, who had trained him to fight dirt side with all the skill of a GAR trooper.  Second was his _ba’vodu_ , Swoop and Jumper, who had trained him to be as much a stick jockey as they were, not to mention their daughter Glider.

Third though, third was Master Sofi, who had taught him to be a Jedi.  She was the closest thing he had to a mother, and leaving her was almost as hard as leaving Buir.

He was leaving within the hour, he knew, his _vex-_ class ship was waiting on the landing pad, loaded with the gear the aliit had shoved on him before letting him go.  There was just one last thing to go through.

Master Sofi was every inch a Jedi.  She’d been a Padawan when the Order came down, on her way from Coruscant to the troops in her fighter when everything went crazy.  The Force gave her warning enough to drop out of hyperspace prematurely, and she’d managed to escape the attention of the clones who had already managed to kill her Master.

Rescued by Master Kara and Master Jaran, Sofi had come to the Refuge to complete her training under the tutelage of Master Jaran and was Knighted shortly thereafter.

Now, she stepped before him, lightsaber lit, green blade creating odd shadows in the pre-dawn setting.

“Who comes before us?”  Master Kara asked, her voice rolling through the pre-dawn like a cannon blast.

“I do,” Master Sofi announced, “and I bring a petitioner.”

“Speak,” Master Jaran said.

“This is Padawan Misha, my student,” Master Sofi said, “he has passed his Trials and stands strong in the Light of the Force.”

“Who speaks of his blade?”  Master Kara asked.

“I do,” Master Don said, “for I escorted him on his journey to find his kyber crystal and stood witness to the creation of his light saber.”

“Who speaks of his heart?”  Jaran asked.

“I do,” Master Ta said, “for as I taught his feet the movements of the Forms, so I saw his heart move on the way of the Jedi and never has it strayed.”

“Who speaks to his mind?”  Kara asked.

“I do,” Professor Jensen said, “for I have overseen his academic career all his life, he is a well and able student with a strong and knowledgeable mind.”

“Padawan Misha,” Kara said.

Misha stepped forward and bowed.

“I have heard the testimony of your teachers, and seen your resolve in the Trials,” Kara said, and reached out, gently pulling the strand of beads from his hair.  “It is my honor to see you and acknowledge you as a Jedi Knight.”

Misha closed his eyes as the sun breached the horizon, flooding the area with light.

“Be strong, be wise, be true,” the four Masters said in unison.

Master Sofi rested her hand on Misha’s shoulder, “May the Force be with you, little one.”

“And with you Master,” Misha said.

There was a long moment of silence, then Jaran clapped, “Congratulations Misha.  Welcome to the ranks.”

Applause rang out from the small group of observers, and Misha turned to accept the hug his buir yanked him into.  Then he was being passed around the ba’vodu who had come to witness the ceremony.  His aliit was passing him around for hugs and then he was facing Master Sofi again.

“Master,” Misha said, tugging on his short jacket.

“Call me Sofi, Misha,” Sofi said with a laugh.  “You’ll be fine out there, you know.”

Misha smiled, “Yeah I will.  You taught me that.”

Sofi rested her hand on his shoulder and pulled him down until she could press a kiss to his forehead, “You already knew how.  I just helped you figure it out.”

Misha nodded and stepped back, turning to look for his buir.  Zip was talking with Master Kara, with the stern but fond _this is my General.  There is no one like her, she’s mine,_ expression that he always got around her.  Misha shook his head slightly, he could practically see the new rumors brewing in Uncle Bang’s mind as he watched them.

“Misha.”

Misha turned and smiled, “Uncle Chip.”

“Congratulations,” Chip said, pulling him into a hug.  “Are you leaving soon?”

“Soon as I say goodbye to Buir,” Misha said.  “No use in a long goodbye now.”

“I guess,” Chip said.  “Be careful out there, I don’t want to have to explain to the Captain that you got shot down, okay?”

“I will,” Misha said with a grin, “I was trained by the best.”

Chip smiled, then glanced over Misha’s shoulder, “Kara’s heading over to Jaran with that look on her face.  You go see your buir, and I’ll keep them from causing any more trouble.”

Sixteen years of observing Master Kara and Master Jaran interacting leant a speed to Misha’s stride as he barreled through the gathering and into his buir, who laughed and just hugged him.

“Master Kara’s going to start trouble,” Misha muttered as he rested his head on his buir’s shoulder. 

“Of course she is,” Zip replied with a soft laugh.  “It’s what she does.  You about ready to head out.”

“If I say yes, how many of my ba’vodu are going to follow me?”  Misha muttered.

Zip hesitated a moment, “Wait five minutes and let Kara get started, then go.  They’ll all be watching the General.”

Misha smiled, because no matter how many years since the war stopped, no matter how many times Kara cajoled his buir to simply call her Kara, Zip’s first instinct was still to call her his general.

“All right everyone,” Kara called, “I know it’s way too early for our usual party, so instead, there’s breakfast.”

“Did you cook it?”  Chip called.

“No, but I’m paying for it,” Kara replied with a laugh.

As the mix of Jedi and Vod’e headed away, Misha gave his dad one last hug and headed for the landing pad where his ship waited.


	2. Prelimiaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of meetings bring about Misha's presence in the Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked flamethrower, author of Reentry and Reentry: Journey of the Whills if I could borrow her idiot from Resources and she said yes. I have named him, he is mine now.

They met on Alsaiir, slipping one after the other into a hidden hanger on the opposite side of the planet from the sole population center.  Devlin Meijar came in a small freighter that had seen better days, and brought with him a co-pilot that put Misha on alert.

“Misha,” Devlin said as he disembarked from his ship.

“Su cuy’gar,” Misha said easily, reaching out to grip Devlin’s forearm.  “New friend?”

Devlin grinned, “Co-pilot, actually.  Took a bit of bad gas during an engagement earlier this week, and while I’m cleared, some people seem to think I’m going to randomly pass out or become disoriented.”

“Well, are you?”  Misha asked, watching as the Twi’lek came off the ship.

“No,” Devlin said.  He turned, “Bai Secura, this is Misha.  Misha, this is Lieutenant Bai Secura.”

“Sir,” Misha said with a quick salute.

“You’re not Alliance yet,” Bai said, “salutes aren’t necessary.”

Misha glanced at his hand with a lopsided grin, “Sorry, habit.  My family’s got a lot of military tradition.”

“Why do you want to join the Alliance?”  Bai asked.

Misha glanced at Devlin, “Co-pilot, huh?  Entrance examiner sounds more likely.”

“Somebody has to do it,” Devlin replied.

Misha grinned at him turned back to Bai, “Like I said, my family’s got a lot of military tradition.  I guess you could say it’s in their blood, Buir and my ba’vodu are Mandalorian stock.  I grew up on stories about what they saw in the war, and why they did it.  Fighting to restore what they thought was worth dying for seemed a worthy cause.”  He spread his hands slightly, “That, and my options as a pilot back home consist of either cargo hauling, which would put me in the air regularly, but restrict me to approved shipping lanes, or planetary defense, which means I’d be lucky to get in the air every few days, and always in structured exercises.”

“You know you’ll see a lot of that with the Alliance,” Bai said.

“Well sure,” Misha replied, “but it’ll be different.  I’ll be making a difference.”

“Devlin said you were sixteen,” Bai asked.

“Age of majority back home,” Misha agreed.  “I’ve been PD for the past three years.”

“You,” Bai turned to look at Devlin, who shrugged. 

“Javor isn’t exactly Ilandrian,” Misha said, “although they represent us in political matters.”

“It’s complicated,” Devlin agreed.

“All right, and you have previous military experience,” Bai said.  He glanced at Misha’s ship, “I have to confess, I’ve never seen a ship like that.”

Misha grinned, “This is a _vex-_ class single pilot ship.  There’s a full sleeping berth and ‘fresher, and the main living space can sleep an additional three passengers, but I don’t recommend it for a long-term situation.  On board hyperdrive, full nav, combat grade shields, and weapons are handled in the cockpit, it has two turbo laser canons and a single port for torpedoes.  _Galaar_ specifically has an ion canon instead of a second torpedo bay.”

“Nice,” Bai said.

“We usually use them when we want to make sure the rest of the galaxy is still horrible,” Misha said, “they’re small and fast, and a person can do reasonably length missions without having to depend on planets and stations except for fuel.”

“What about parts and maintenance?”  Bai asked.

“I can handle most of that,” Misha said, “the _Galaar_ has been my personal ship since I was ten and tall enough to see through the viewpoint.  My ba’vodu included ship maintenance with my pilot lessons, and we basically rebuilt her over the past year.”

“Will you be wanting to use her in a fighter squadron?”  Bai asked.

“Not really,” Misha said, “I mean, I can if I need to, but she’s not a star fighter, she’s a passenger ship with defenses.  If that’s a problem, I can make arrangements to send her back home.  I just thought it would be useful to have her.”

Bai hummed for a moment, “All right, Devlin, give him the base coordinates.  We’ll see how things go.”

“I- I’m in?”  Misha asked.

“You’ve passed the first test,” Bai said.  “Our base commander, Commander Fa, will need to speak with you though.”

Misha saluted, “Thank you, Lieutenant.  Hopefully this is the start of a wonderful thing.”

“Indeed,” Bai said.

Devlin slapped Misha’s shoulder, “Come on, Mish, let’s get you ready to go.”

/././.\\.\\.\

The Commander was in a meeting when they got to the base, so Misha was swept off to meet with one of his aides to fill out paperwork.  Misha didn’t think of himself as the type of person to make a judgement call when he met people, knowing that first impressions weren’t always accurate, but the tall, slender man with a sharply tailored uniform and precisely trimmed haircut named Bail Hetar set off every warning instinct Misha had.

“You are a pilot yes?”  Hetar said with a slight sniff.

“Yes,” Misha said.

“Fighter or capital?”  Hetar asked.

“Fighter,” Misha replied.  “I also…”

“Ah,” Hetar held up his stylus, “I’ll ask you what I need to know.  Did you bring a personal craft?”

“Yes,” Misha said.

“A star fighter?”  Hetar asked.

“No,” Misha said.

“Will you be signing ownership of your ship to the Alliance?”  Hetar asked.

“No,” Misha said firmly.

Hetar hummed, “Once you have an Alliance-issue datapad, make sure you review the regulations of using personal ships on Alliance missions.”

“Of course,” Misha said.

“Home planet or system,” Hetar said.

“Javor, Ilandrian System,” Misha said, wanting to shift in his seat, but not daring to give away such a weakness.

“And your full name,” Hetar said.

“Misha,” Misha said.

“Last name?”  Hetar asked.

“I’m sorry,” Misha asked.

“Your last name, also called a family or clan name,” Hetar said.

“Oh, I don’t have one,” Misha said.

“I require your second name, young man, that your paperwork will be complete.”  Hetar said.

“I only have one name,” Misha said firmly.

“I cannot complete your paperwork without your legal second name.  Whatever name you chose to give to your squadron is your choice, but the paperwork must be complete.”

“I.  Do.  Not.  Have.  A.  Second.  Name.”  Misha said, biting each word off precisely.  “Do you demand that, that _Wookies_ give you two names?”

“You are not a Wookie,” Hetar said.

The two of them stared at each other, clearly at an impasse.

The door to Hetar’s office chimed and he reached over to activate the intercom, “Yes?”

“Sir there’s an issue with the quartermaster,” a woman said, “apparently someone ordered the wrong energy packs and people are having a meltdown.”

Hetar sighed and put his pad down, “We will have to continue this conversation when I return.  I suggest you rethink your commitment to joining the Alliance.”

Misha watched him leave and sighed, this was not the problem he’d expected to encounter.  For a moment, he carefully reached for the Force, letting its familiar warmth strengthen his resolve to do this.

The door slid open and Misha turned, surprised.

A Togruta male came into the room, ducking his head to avoid banging his montrals, “You are Misha?”

“I am,” Misha said, standing.  “You are Commander Fa?”

“I am,” Fa said with a smile.  “Are you done with the paperwork?”

Misha glanced at the empty desk, “I don’t know.  We seem to have hit a snag.”

“A problem?”  Fa said.

“According to Captain Hetar, I can’t join the Alliance,” Misha said.

“Why not?”  Fa asked.

“Because I don’t have a second name,” Misha replied.  “He refused to finish the work until I provided him with one, and I refuse to lie.  My name is Misha.  That’s it, there’s no second name of any sort.”

Fa hummed and nodded slightly.  “I am going to speak with Captain Hetar.  The Alliance has no place for that sort of bigotry.  I know he is dealing with the supply issue, would you care to come discuss your place in the Alliance while he’s busy?”

Misha nodded, “I would be delighted, sir.”


	3. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Captain Whit doesn't exactly go how Misha expected.

After Misha’s meeting with Commander Fa, and Fa’s subsequent dressing down of Hetar, Devlin was assigned to introduce Misha to the Captain of one of the fighter squadrons.  Called Blue Squadron, Misha was quietly amused to find that the snub fighters of his squad had all been painted with strips of 501st blue.

“So,” Misha said as they walked past the ships.

“It’s not just you,” Devlin said, “I noticed it too.  They haven’t put the pieces together.”

“But would they be mad if I slapped a color of my choice on there?”  Misha asked.

“You’d probably have to talk to Captain Whit,” Devlin replied as they approached one of the pre-fab buildings close to the ships.  There were five of the octagonal buildings with their domed tops.  “This one is Training Ops,” Devlin said, “Captain Whit keeps an office here, which is where we’re most likely to find him.  Next building down on the right is the lounge, which we share with White Squadron.  After that is the commissary, which is for us, the White Squad, and the mechanics.  On the left, the first building is White Squad barracks and the second is Blue Squad barracks.  The rooms are two beings each, and since I don’t have a roommate, I imagine they’ll bunk you with me.”

“That going to be a problem?”  Misha asked as Devlin opened the door to Training Ops.

“Why, do you snore or otherwise making weird noises in your sleep?”  Devlin asked.

“Insomnia,” Misha replied, “but if I’m keeping _Galaar,_ I can always go there when I can’t sleep.”

“Better check that with the Captain,” Devlin said, “He likes knowing where everyone is, especially at night.”

“I will,” Misha promised.

The Training Ops building opened on a hall way that extended maybe thirty feet deep, ending at a pair of double doors marked with ‘Classified Personnel Only’ and a key pad.  There were two other doors in the hall, one closed and the other open.  Devlin led Misha to the open door and rapped briskly on the door frame.

“Come in Meijar,” the man inside said.  He was Human, with not-quite blond hair threaded with grey and a careworn face.  Bright blue eyes studied Misha as they entered, and Misha was aware that the seemingly tired exterior of this man concealed the scary kind of intelligence.  It would not be easy to get anything over on this man.

“Captain Whit,” Devlin said with a salute, Misha followed suit.  “This is Pilot Misha, from Javor.  Commander Fa told me to introduce him to you.”

“I got his message,” Captain Whit said standing up, “Welcome to the Alliance, Pilot Misha.  Is that first name or last name?”

“Only name,” Misha replied, shaking the man’s hand.  “It’s just Misha.”

“All right,” Whit said, he glanced at Devlin, “find Lieutenant Fy’lar and send him to me.”

“Yes sir,” Devlin said with another salute and left, shutting the door behind him.

“All right Misha, have a seat,” Whit said.  “I have your file here, but I’d rather hear you talk about yourself.”

Misha swallowed slightly and nodded as he sat down across from Whit’s desk.  “Well, I come from Javor, but I’m not Javorian.  My dad’s of Mandalore stock and my second genetic donor was from Ilan.  Dad’s old military and he raised me with the same skill and values, and his brothers taught me to fly.  I joined our planetary defense three years ago as a pilot and I’ve logged almost twenty hours of combat time.”

“In three years,” Whit said quickly.

“Yes sir,” Misha replied, “Most of them were doing trading escorts, outside Ilandrian space.”  He hesitated, “I do confess, I’ve never had a confirmed kill, although my CO says that I presented myself well in the conflicts.  I was still completing my education, so most of my pilot duties were patrols and surface to platform.”

“What did you fly?”  Whit asked.

“In combat?  Y-Wings and V-Wings, although one time I out ran an ambush in an old Aethersprite,” Misha ducked his head to hide a blush, he hadn’t exactly been supposed to be _flying_ Master Jaran’s Aethersprite that day and had been in a lot of trouble afterwards.  “My buir, uh, my dad, said that Aethersprite almost ended my career before it began.”

“Mechanical trouble?”  Whit asked.

“No,” Misha said with a quick head shake, “I have it on good authority that the only reason I even survived getting back to base was because the owner’s religious views decry cold blooded murder and the man is almost fanatical in his religious observance.”

Whit snorted, “Are there any other ships you’re experienced with?”

“I have actual flight hours as pilot in two of the three Javorian designed ships we use, the _Vex, Que,_ and _Sep._   _Vex-_ class is a personal ship, designed for a single pilot, but can hold three passengers if they can share the ‘fresher and don’t mind makeshift bunks.  I brought one of those with me, but even with her weapons and shields, I prefer not to use her in combat.  _Que-_ class ships are meant for a 3-4 arrangement, three crew with living quarters, four passengers.  Two ‘freshers there.  I’ve piloted and co-piloted those for academic experiences.  _Sep-_ class, I have co-pilot experience on.  Those are 7-10’s, and primarily our SRR crews use them.  That’s Search, Rescue, and Retrieval.  As well, I’ve flown in Clone Z-95s, V-19 Torrents, and LAAT gunships, but that was for training only.  I have simulator time with X-Wings, TIE-Fighters and Interceptors, and Lambda shuttles.”

“I wasn’t aware you could get simulator packages for the X-Wing outside the Alliance,” Whit said.

“I wouldn’t know about that sir,” Misha replied, “I only know the training was made available in the past year, and I took advantage of it.”

“I also notice you’ve named a number of ships in use during the Clone War,” Whit added.

Misha winced slightly, “My buir and his brothers fought in the _Separatist_ War, yes.  They ended up with a number of Republic vessels in their possession in the years following the war.  They’re perfectly good ships, so we’ve maintained them.”

“I had thought you were, related, to them,” Whit said. 

Misha didn’t need the Force to read Whit’s disgust.

“I’m going to take a guess at why you’re not a fan of my family,” Misha said, “because I get it, I know what happened.  My _buir_ and my _ba’vodu_ never lied to me about what the Emperor did and what happened to them.  Even if they hadn’t of, I didn’t grow up isolated from the rest of the planet, I heard it plenty from the bullies at school.  If my _buir_ ’s existence is going to be a problem, I’ll talk to the Commander, I’m sure something can be worked out.”


	4. Introduction

Lieutenant Fy’lar turned out to be a Bothan with reddish brown fur and a sneer that appeared when he got a look at Misha.

“Lieutenant,” Whit said pointedly, “this is Cadet Misha.  He needs a bunk, and then get him in the simulators.”

“Yes sir,” Fy’lar replied with a salute.

“Dismissed,” Whit said.

Misha stood and saluted, then followed the Lieutenant out into the hallway.  The Bothan gave him a long, withering look, then headed outside. 

“Meijar will see to your directional needs,” he said after a long moment, “he’s also your roommate, and until further notice, your wing mate.”

“Yes sir,” Misha said, sensing that this was not the best moment to run his mouth, even if he wanted to know if this was rookie bullshit or if it was more clone bullshit.

Fy’lar paused and turned to study Misha, eyes narrowed as he looked him over.  “Are you mocking me, Cadet?”

“No sir,” Misha replied.  He fell to attention, “Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted,” Fy’lar said after a moment.

“My dad is old school military,” Misha said, no point ignoring the obvious, “I was raised on military discipline.  Saying sir is a verbal pattern for me, automatic.”

Fy’lar eyed him again, “Combat training?”

“Air and ground,” Misha nodded slightly.  “Dad was a ground fighter, but my uncles were both pilots and they taught me everything they knew.”

Fy’lar nodded in response.  “We have a barber who comes around every two weeks, he’ll be here in a few days.”

“That’s nice,” Misha said, looking across the field to the parked X-Wings, they weren’t aesthetically pleasing, but there was something about them.  They looked like those junk yard beasts that weren’t any one thing, but ended up being the toughest beast in the brawl when push came to shove.

“You’ll have to sign up before noon tomorrow,” Fy’lar insisted.

Misha frowned and looked back at the Lieutenant, “I’m sorry sir, sign up for what?”

“Your hair,” Fy’lar said, nodding slightly.

“Grooming standards state that the only requirement is that it not endanger others, sir,” Misha said.  He wanted to touch his hair, to maybe shove the stubborn curl that bounced around his ear back behind it again, he wanted to make sure that it wasn’t starting to stand straight up after being stuck in a helmet.  But he didn’t, because that would make his position even more ridiculous than he wanted it to be.

“Yes, but,” Fy’lar said.

“Sir,” Misha said carefully, “as long as I comply with the grooming regulations.”

Fy’lar actually looked like he was in pain.

“A deal,” Misha offered, inspired, “you said every two weeks, right?  If in two weeks, my hair proves to be a problem, I’ll get the cut.”  He glanced back at the training building.  “I just don’t want Captain Whit to see my father every time he sees me, and if I cut my hair, that’s all he’ll ever see.”

“A deal,” Fy’lar agreed, “I believe a handshake will suffice.”

Misha took Fy’lar’s hand and shook it firmly, then followed the officer over to the Blue Squad barracks.

The barracks were not what Misha envisioned from his dad’s stories, being neither the pods of Kamino or the long room of bunkbeds from various campaigns, or even the communal homes that his uncles tended to gravitate to when they were single.  The front of the barracks was split by the entrance into two rooms, on one side was a holovid, and on the other was a game room, or so it seemed from the holotable in the back of the room.  Both rooms had people in them and Misha had to sternly remind himself not to reach for his blaster as they were noticed.  He’d been in one too many places where notice was not the idea to be comfortable as the focus of attention, but he could handle it.  He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and let Fy’lar do the talking.

“All right you sad, sorry lot, gather ‘round.  Our last cadet has finally arrived.”  Fy’lar announced.  The people all started coming into the entryway, shutting off the holovid and pausing their games as they did.  Devlin was right in the middle, and he gave Misha a small, encouraging smile.  “Where’s Xanadu?”

“They’re in medical, sir,” Devlin said, “getting their stitches out.”

“Right.  This is Misha,” Fy’lar said, his hand dropping heavily on Misha’s shoulder.  “Mejia, he’s your roommate and wingman.”

“Yes sir,” Devlin said with a nod.

“Pay attention, cadet,” Fy’lar said, “this is Lieutenant Bai Secura, our other LT, and the rest of these idiots are your fellow cadets.”  He pointed and Misha set himself to align names with faces.

“Amaya Sorense,” was a Mirialan with a cross-hatch pattern running under her left eye.

“Padme Cordera,” was a human lady with short, dark brown hair cut short on the sides, and a crest on top.

“Dacre Adion,” was dark skinned man with a cocky grin and a jaunty salute.

“Jed Fisto,” was a Nautolan who appeared to have a lot in common with another Fisto Misha had learned about.  He wondered what the relationship was there.

“Lolo,” was a Rodian lady who was half hiding behind Cordera and looked terribly nervous.

“Jem,” was a Sullustan who met his eyes with defiance, and they exchanged a nod, recognizing that their fathers might have fought against each other, this was a new war and a new path.

“and Tycho Celchu,” was another human, a blond with an impressively blank face and the fires of a thousand hells in his eyes.

“Now, we’ve been ordered to test Cadet Misha’s skills, so saddle up and let’s move.  Mejia, make sure Misha gets his gear stowed before lights, got it?”

“Yes sir,” Devlin said.

They all headed back to the training building and Misha wondered why the squadron hadn’t just met them there if this was where they would have ended up.  He didn’t say anything though, knowing that would be more trouble than it was worth.  Instead he took note of the fact that Celchu had fallen in beside him.  After a moment, Misha carefully eased open his shields, wanting to get a reading on the blond.

Grief and anger swirled around Celchu so strongly that Misha wondered how nobody else could sense it.  Then he noticed the space the others were granting Celchu, and he thought maybe they did.  He eased his shields closed again, not willing to read anyone else just yet, and not willing to risk disturbing the Force too much.  He’d been granted this chance specifically because of his skill at shielding, he wasn’t going to mess up on the first day because he was curious.  There would be plenty of time to get the measure of his squad.


	5. First Test

Devlin Meijar was pretty sure he was going to end up dead before the hour was up.  He’d awoken to find the second bed in his room empty, and while he hadn’t realized it at first, by the time he’d showered and come back, he realized that he had a roommate now, and Misha wasn’t there.  Devlin checked, but while Misha’s boots were gone, the flight suit he’d been issued was still visible through the open door of Misha’s closet.  Checking the rest of the barracks proved that nobody had even seen Misha that morning, and left Devlin nearing panic levels of anxiety.

Devlin was getting caff out of the lounge when Padme came in, looking amused, “Dev, have you seen Misha yet?”  She asked.

“No, have you?”  Devlin asked.

“Check outside, you can’t miss him,” Padme replied, “Captain’s going to have a fit.”

Abandoning the half full mug of caff, Devlin hurried outside, took a look around, and swore.

Misha was balanced on the wing of the sleek little ship he’d brought with him, doing a handstand.

“He’s crazy, isn’t he?”  Dacre muttered from behind him.

“He’s something,” Devlin replied, wondering how this counted as keeping a low profile.  “What is he thinking?”

“Meijar,” Captain Whit snapped.

“Sir,” Devlin saluted the captain.

“You knew him before, what is he doing?”  Captain Whit demanded.

“I do not know,” Devlin said, “although, he may be meditating.  I know at least one of his uncles sets store by meditation.”  Dammit, it wasn’t his job to make up excuses for Misha.  His job had been to get Misha here.

Captain Whit studied him a moment then jerked his head, “Go get him down.  We have training to do.”

“Yes sir,” Devlin said, mourning his untasted caff.  He set off across the landing pad, weaving around startled maintenance workers, astromechs, and snub fighters to Misha and his ship.  When he reached the point where his voice would carry easily to Misha, he called out, “Having fun?”

“No,” Misha replied, shifted slightly and rolled out of the handstand.

“Well, you’re definitely the morning’s entertainment,” Devlin said to cover up the moment when his heart skipped a beat.

“I was meditating,” Misha said, leaning over to look at him as he tied back his hair.

“You were doing a handstand on the edge of your ship’s wing,” Devlin replied, “it was a bit startling.  Get down here, the Captain wants us to start training.”

“Okay,” Misha said.  He knelt, hand on the wing, then he rolled off the wing.

“No, wait,” Devlin yelped, jumping forward.

Misha stared at him, hand gripping a loop of cloth that held him easily, “What?”

“Are you trying to kill _me?”_   Devlin said.

“No, I was getting down until you yelled at me,” Misha said.

Devlin shook his head, “Get down, let’s go.”

Misha reached up and lifted up enough to free his hand and then dropped to the ground.  “Ready when you are.”

“Don’t even,” Devlin said as they started for the training building, “I haven’t even had caff yet.”

“That’s not my fault,” Misha said.  “The deal was that I’m responsible for me, not you.”

“Exactly,” Devlin said.  “I shouldn’t have to explain you doing weird things.”

“Then don’t,” Misha said.  “I can handle odd looks and questions.”

“You say that like it’s easy,” Devlin muttered.

“You’d be surprised,” Misha said as they cleared the landing field.

Captain Whit was still waiting for them, and Misha stopped and presented a textbook salute, “Morning, Captain Whit.”

“Is there a reason you were practicing gymnastics this morning?”  Captain Whit asked.

“Yes.”  Misha replied, in a tone that was devoid of warmth and was clearly an attempt to shut down the line of questioning the captain was pursuing.

Captain Whit stared at him for a very long moment.  “For what reason were you practicing gymnastics this morning.”

Misha was quiet for a moment, then his lips twitched a little.  “Gymnastics are an excellent calisthenics, they promote bodily fitness and grace of movement.”

Captain Whit turned away for a moment then turned back, “Why were you doing a handstand on your ship?”

“I was meditating.”

“In a handstand.”

“It’s very relaxing.”

“On your ship.”

“Good breeze up there, keeps it from feeling airless.”

Captain Whit moved around for a moment, “And you were up early because?”

“Time differences, I’m about five hours behind my usual cycle,” Misha replied.

Captain Whit stared at him for a long moment.

“Sir,” Misha said, “I wasn’t aware that joining the Alliance meant baring every childhood trauma and bad dream to my commanding officers, even if I have to invent said trauma and dreams.”

Captain Whit sighed, “You’re right, Cadet.  Now, let’s get you in a simulator and see what you can do.”

Misha saluted again.

“And stop that, we try not to give the Imperials an idea of who needs to be assassinated,” Captain Whit added.

“Sir, yes sir,” Misha said and headed for the training building.

“He’s going to give me grey hair,” Whit muttered, then noticed Devlin.  “Go get yourself some caff and join us.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir,” Devlin said and made a beeline back to the barracks for a mug.

It looked as if Misha had passed his first test.

**Author's Note:**

> buir- parent  
> ba'vodu- aunt or uncle  
> aliit- clan or family  
> vod'e- brothers (in this case, it's also the name of their cultural group)


End file.
